


慕田峪 (Mùtiányù)

by soucieux



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Community: kizuna_exchange, M/M, letting go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soucieux/pseuds/soucieux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akanishi is drawn to Mutianyu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	慕田峪 (Mùtiányù)

**Author's Note:**

> Mutianyu is a beautiful portion of the Great Wall near Beijing. Written for queen_kat_tun@LJ and jamie_spotty@LJ for kizuna_exchange@LJ ([k_x](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/k_x)@AO3). Thank you very much to tia_junan@LJ for his excellent last-minute beta work - truly. Finally, the playlist:
> 
>   
> 

Higher and higher and higher up into the mist. The old stone steps are slick from the dense fog, and the summertime air is thick and humid. His lungs feel wet and his calves burn.

The steps break into a flat path. He stops for a breath and leans his back against a big pine with damp sappy bark. He closes his eyes and inhales slowly, counts to five, exhales, counts to five. Rinse and repeat. His shoulders sag in relaxation. The fog is perfumed herbal and earthy from the trees and soil. It washes over him, ebbs and flows with a gentle breeze that rustles the peaceful quiet.

He hears someone singing, smooth and low and pleasant.

He opens his eyes, interrupted by the chatter of a tour group approaching from below. The singing stops. His eyelids are heavy.

This is his third trip to Mutianyu in the time that he’s been here. There’s something magical about it, something that keeps drawing him back. Every time he comes, he feels like he’s reaching deeper and deeper into himself, closer and closer to a profound realization that he knows lies inside.

The tour group comes closer still, interrupting his thoughts again. He sees them, all with matching red baseball caps and speaking fast Chinese. Their tour guide waves a big flag. He doesn’t understand a word that they’re saying.

He flees their company and continues on toward the Wall. It’s quiet, and as he rounds a bend in the path, there’s another set of stairs steeper and slicker than the last. Moss and dry leaves creep in from either side. A sign in several languages promises his destination is just up these steps.

Despite being here twice before, he’s never made it to the actual wall. The first time, he mulled around the marketplace, dodging stalls selling trinkets and t-shirts and treats with a forceful _bú yào_. I don’t want it. And when he reached the path that led up to the Wall, he was struck with anxiousness and fear in the pit of his stomach. It seemed daunting. Something primal inside held him back and told him: _not today_.

The second time, he made it to the spot he stands at now. He wasn’t afraid, but butterflies gnawed at his stomach. It was midday, very hot and very humid. The trees rustled, again telling him: _not today_. He remembers closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. 

When he opened them again, the sun was setting to the west, and an old man was speaking to him in Chinese. But, he could only understand the old man's actions. The way he was being corralled back down the path, he figured that he’d overstayed his welcome.

Had he been sleeping? But he’d been standing. How was the sun setting? It'd just been midday. “Do you speak Japanese? English?” He asked, desperate for answers.

The reply was a simple, “no,” and he didn’t know what to think.

Today, he’s not afraid. Today, he’s not anxious. Today, he is just at peace. It feels right: being in tune with the forest and himself. Today, Mutianyu soothes his soul and assures him that he’ll be okay. Everything will be all right. _Today is the right day._

He wonders what he’ll find at the top. The answer to all of his problems? Or maybe that there are no answers, and that he’s crazy for thinking that this place will help him find himself, that he’s crazy for having to come here three times to make it to the top. Maybe he’ll find out the Chinese government shoots covert chemicals into the air as a ploy to get the tourists to come back over and over again.

He hesitates, takes a breath, and plunges forward.

Once he reaches the Wall, the view takes his breath away. Unforgiving granite cuts through the lush, green landscape and disappears into the distance. Fog blankets the majestic, undulating mountains.

Something wells up in his chest. He closes his eyes tight. The singing starts up again, just a whisper in the damp breeze.

“I didn’t think I’d find you somewhere like this,” a familiar voice says. 

“Is that you?” He asks, and opens his eyes slowly. “Is that you—”

When he turns around, no one is there.

The air is eerily still.

\--

Together, the six of them were KAT-TUN. In the beginning, nothing went right. They couldn’t dance in sync. Not one of them could hold a note. They were gangly undertalented teenage jigsaw puzzle pieces, all from different boxes. And they fought, _a lot_.

“You’re definitely temporary,” people told them. “Hopefully you get a better group once you guys are broken up, or else you’ll never make it to debut.” They weren’t trying to be cruel, but it hurt.

Someone provided them with a different take on things: “Give it your all. Do your best. If you can make something out of nothing, if you want it badly enough, you will make it. Together. And a bond of hardship is tighter than a bond of fortune.”

They surged forward, and in their own haphazard way, garnered a legion of fans. Several years passed, and they accepted their individuality. KAT-TUN was never _really_ a cohesive unit, but they made it work.

Their precarious balance was shifted when Kame and Yamapi debuted as _Shuuji to Akira_. Tension began to build. Their confidence wavered. They couldn’t be KAT-TUN without Kame. 

Jin and Kame had been really good friends, especially close after filming _Gokusen 2_ together. But, _Nobuta wo Produce_ sucked away the Kame that Jin knew. Until then, everything was fun and games, fame and girls.

When KAT-TUN debuted, Jin didn't celebrate. He didn’t feel excitement—he didn’t feel much of anything, just a strange void of emptiness welling up in his gut. He was the anchor for KAT-TUN’s musical success, but it didn’t fulfill him.

The problem was: being in KAT-TUN wasn’t just about the music. They were also _idols_ , and that stifled and choked him. He didn’t enjoy being beholden to the agency or playing into the stereotypes to please the fanbase. He couldn’t fit into a mold when his whole life, he’d been the type to admit openly to who he was, the type to just do what he wanted, because that’s how he worked.

He wasn’t Kame.

He took a break from KAT-TUN, and went to America to study English for six months. 

\--

Akanishi is there for a long time, staring out at the mountains from one of the many watchtowers on the Wall. The morning fog is replaced by the hot, berating sun, and the air is still thick, still humid. It’s hard to breathe once midday arrives.

He finds refuge inside the stone building, gulps down water to fuel his dehydrated body and rests in a big open square window.

He closes his eyes, and Mutianyu caresses him with a thick, hot breeze. He inhales, counts to five, exhales, counts to five. Rinse and repeat. The singing starts again. His chest constricts, and his heart swells.

“You never just sing out of nowhere anymore,” a familiar voice says. Akanishi opens his eyes. Kamenashi sits opposite him, back against the frame of the window. He straddles the primitive sill and swings his legs back and forth in tandem. “It was annoying before. Now I miss it. You sound good.”

“Thank you,” Akanishi says, and he, oddly, isn’t surprised by Kamenashi’s presence. “You’ve always complimented me on it,” he says, and looks out over the trees and into the distance. He feels at peace.

“You were the Voice,” Kamenashi says, and he takes a big swig of Akanishi’s water, Adam’s apple bobbing. He smacks his wet curvy lips in satisfaction. “The song producer would always be like, ‘Ah, a little more blah blah blah. You need to match Akanishi-san.’”

“Blah blah blah?” Akanishi laughs.

“Well, you know, whatever you were feeling at the time. Sometimes you thought you should sing softly. Sometimes you thought you should sing passionately. You were our creative producer, and we followed your lead.” Kamenashi pauses, and smiles like he has a secret. “You were so good at it.” He reaches forward and puts a hand on one of Akanishi’s knees and squeezes gently.

Akanishi pulls his leg back. “What brings you here?” He changes the subject. “Seems a little far from Tokyo, don’t you think?” 

“Just thought I’d see what you were up to.” Kamenashi shrugs. He stretches his arms over his head and lets out a big yawn. His shirt rides up, and Akanishi sees red marks stretched across his stomach.

“What are those?” He asks, and leans forward to take another look. Long, angry red scratches cover Kamenshi’s torso, and Akanishi presses a hand against his stomach. They're raised and hot, but there’s no broken skin. Akanishi frowns. The wind picks up and whips their hair around. “Why do you have them?” He asks.

“Mutianyu doesn't want me to tell you, I think,” Kamenashi says. He grins.

“It’s basically a mountain, Kame. Mountains can’t tell you what to do.” Akanishi says it matter-of-factly, but he's a hypocrite.

“ _You_ did what it told you to do.” Kamenashi calls him out, furrows his eyebrows and becomes serious. He pulls down his shirt. “You’re here, aren’t you? Once. Twice. Three times. You came back again and again. Mutianyu was calling you. Mutianyu speaks to you.” His face is close, and Akanishi can feel his breath on his face. It’s hotter, thicker, wetter than the air whipping around their faces. The trees rustle furiously.

Akanishi’s lips form a thin line. Kamenashi is looking at him hard. The only movement between them is shared breath. Inhale, count to five, exhale, count to five. Rinse and repeat.

“Well?” Kamenashi says. “Isn’t Mutianyu speaking to you? That’s why you’re here.” His voice is accusatory.

“I feel something,” Akanishi says, voice low. “I feel it. I only feel it here. It’s a piece of me, something deep inside, something–” His jaw clenches and he pulls back to lean against the stone frame. “I can’t even explain it,” he says. “I’m here because I’m supposed to find out something about myself.” He pauses. “And it involves you.”

“I can tell you what it is,” Kamenashi lilts. He grins again, really wide this time, like he can’t hold in the secret much longer.

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes you’re really dumb, Akanishi.” Kamenashi rolls his eyes. He lifts up his shirt. The angry red lines have become thin, shallow cuts. Blood mixes with the thin film of sweat on Kamenashi’s skin. The air feels like Kamenashi’s breath, now, hot and thick and stifling. Akanishi feels like he’s swimming.

“What’s going on with you?” He asks. He reaches forward and runs his hand along Kamenashi’s stomach. Blood smears on his fingertips. Kamenashi just watches him calmly.

“You’re supposed to find me here.” Kamenashi’s voice doesn’t waver, but he averts his eyes. He covers one of Akanishi’s hands with his own and interlaces their fingers. “You did this to me. It’s okay.”

Akanishi closes his eyes, inhales, and begins to count.

“It’s okay. You wanted to leave.”

Exhale, count to five.

Akanishi’s eyes open, and it’s dark outside. The air is cool, less humid. Kamenashi isn’t there anymore.

“How could you even blame it on me?” He asks, quietly.

Mutianyu doesn’t answer him. The whisper of the trees taunts him.

\--

Over the years, they have their moments. Jin kisses Kame in Okinawa. Kame punches him in the gut. Jin kisses Kame when they find out they’ll be in _Gokusen 2_ together. Kame punches him in the gut, again. Kame also stops talking to him for a few days, but it doesn’t last longer than that because they have to film together, and because you can’t just ignore someone who you have matching pinky rings with.

Over the years, Kame really hates it when Jin kisses him, but Jin just shrugs it off. Kame is fickle, curling right up against Jin as they sleep, and denying his advances otherwise. It frustrates Jin, but not as much as it should, because he loves everything about Kame anyway.

They meet up for dinner several weeks after Jin returns to Japan.

“How was Los Angeles?” Kame asks. The word is twisted and foreign coming from his mouth. When he tries to speak English, Kame’s voice raises a hilarious half octave. “Did you like it?” He grins wide and Jin laughs into his ramen, steam enveloping his face.

“You sound stupid,” Jin says, and looks back at him. “Los Angeles,” he says, carefully, with the proper inflection, “was what I told you on the phone. Not much more to it.” He slurps his noodles.

“So basically, ordering food is hard when you don’t know the language, the girls are all really hot, everyone loves to drink, and it sucked when your mom isn’t there to take care of you when you’re sick?” Kame asks. He’s still grinning. “I wish America turned you into an adult.”

“Shut _up_ , Kameeeeeeeeeee,” Jin whines, and shoves more noodles into his mouth. His cheeks are red from steam and embarrassment. 

Kame turns toward his own ramen and begins to slurp away. The air is hot and sticky, and being in the small ramen shop doesn’t help. The salarymen around them loosen their ties and take off their suit jackets. 

“I really liked it there, despite the adversity I faced,” Jin says, finally, and looks at Kame, who sometime during the meal has pulled his hair up into a small topknot. 

“Adversity? You’re an idiot.” Kame rolls his eyes and smacks Jin playfully on the head.

Jin just smiles fondly, big bright and lopsided. “Sometimes it’s like you haven’t changed at all,” he says, voice full of false wistfulness, and Kame glares at him. Jin laughs with all of his teeth showing, so hard that his stomach cramps from the combined effort of laughter and digestion.

He misses this Kame. His temporary hiatus in America was for selfish reasons, but it’s done good things for the group too. The tension surrounding them dissipated: balance restored.

But, that also means that KAT-TUN the idol group doesn’t actually need _him_ for balance.

“It was nice not to be an idol.” A sharp intake of breath. “It was really nice,” he says, softly.

The gears turn in his head, and Jin isn’t sure if he belongs in KAT-TUN.

Kame furrows his eyebrows like he doesn’t understand. “I don’t know if you can just _stop_ being an idol, Jin,” he says, carefully. He pauses, contemplative. “Well, maybe, you can.” He laughs. “You just do whatever you want, anyway.” Then, more compassionately: “We do have each other, though. You know that.”

Jin is quiet, and his heart aches. He wouldn’t be who he is without KAT-TUN. It’s a security blanket, something he’s had for a long time.

But then he tilts back in his seat and longingly remembers the salty air of Santa Monica beach and the feel of the wind whipping his hair as he and friends drove up PCH.

Kame takes him out of his nostalgia by stabbing him in the collarbone with a chopstick. He almost falls over, and he looks over at the other, eyes wide and mouth half open. This is reality: fickle Kame and idol group KAT-TUN. There are worse things in life, he supposes.

Jin resolves to stop being so _pensive_ and just have fun for the rest of the night. He reaches forward and undoes Kame’s topknot, slipping the hairband onto his wrist. “Let’s go back to your apartment and knock back a few beers,” he suggests.

Kame frowns. “Why mine?”

“Because you live there,” Jin says. “You know what my apartment is like—It’s plain and empty.”

“Like your head~” Kame sing-songs, and even Jin has to admit he walked right into that one.

They play video games late into the night and fall asleep on the couch. The next morning, Jin wakes up, sore in muscles he didn’t even know he had. Kame is settled on his chest, eyes watching him intently and looking like a big, lazy cat.

“Good morning,” Jin says, and tries to jostle the other off of him. Kame doesn’t budge, just makes a noise of discontent. “How the hell is someone your size so heavy?” Jin whines.

Kame laughs, eyes crinkling.

Jin’s heart swells, and he pulls Kame up and kisses his hard. Kame stiffens. Jin can feel a balled up fist against his side, and he coaxes it open and interlaces their fingers.

Kame relaxes against him, pulls his head away and pressing it into Jin’s chest. Jin can feel warm breath through his t-shirt, and smoothes the palm of Kame’s hand with long flat strokes of his thumb. “Kame?” He asks, and Kame grips his hand tight.

“Yes?” Kame asks. 

“I love you,” Jin breathes. He’s always loved Kame. He can’t help it. Kame can do no wrong, even when he’s putting on airs as an idol or being a fickle brat.

“I know.” Kame says, voice muffled.

“Yeah?” Jin asks. His free hand plays with Kame’s hair.

Kame looks up, his chin digging into Jin’s body. “Of course, stupid.”

“So, we—”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“This is enough for now,” Kame says, and presses his lips to Jin’s heart.

Jin is quiet, mostly because he doesn’t understand what Kame means.

\--

Akanishi is alone on Mutianyu. It doesn’t speak to him, and the trees rustle and whisper among themselves. They watch him and wait.

“What does Kame mean?” He asks aloud. “How did I hurt him?” His heart aches.

Akanishi takes in his surroundings. Mutianyu is so different at night. The horizon fades and everything relaxes and blends together. The mountains are less majestic, more mysterious. He can’t see the wall cutting through the landscape in the distance, just the outline of the mountains against a deep navy sky filled with bright white stars and a creamy waning moon.

What is it that Mutianyu wants him to find? What does it have to do with him? What does it have to do with Kamenashi?

As much as Akanishi had _wanted_ something with Kamenashi, it never happened. There were looks exchanged, little touches, secret smiles, and rare kisses, but there was never a relationship. Kamenashi had made it fairly clear to Akanishi that he wasn’t willing.

So how could his leaving hurt Kamenashi? He hadn’t ended anything besides his inclusion in KAT-TUN, and he’d confided in Kamenashi about it, and received his blessing.

He inhales, counts to five, exhales, counts to five. Rinse and repeat. The singing starts again, like clockwork.

There’s thick hot breath on his ear. An answer: “How could I hold you back?”

When he opens his eyes, he’s alone again.

\--

They make him tell the other members personally.

“I’d like to have a solo career,” he begins, “I want to try and make my mark in America.” He pauses, inhales deeply and holds it for several seconds. The others just watch him. He exhales. “I’m told I have to choose between my solo career and KAT-TUN. I know I’ve told you I wanted both of these things, but they believe that I should only pursue one thing at a time.”

Everyone is quiet. They know what that means, but no one wants to say the first word.

Being an idol has never been in Jin’s blood.

Then, Kame says, “You know what you want, and we support you. You know that.” His words and eyes are soft and encouraging. They’ve talked about this, already.

Jin’s heart aches.

The others voice agreement, deferring to Kame’s decision. He is, after all, going to be carrying a little more extra weight than the others. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you,” Jin murmurs. It’s something he’s been saying a lot, recently. This time, he really means it. He wishes things could be different, but they can’t be. It’s unfortunate, but it’s not regrettable. They will forever have the bond of hardship. They will forever have this history.

Together, the six of them are KAT-TUN.

Someone hugs him tight, squeezes him so hard that Jin thinks his ribs are going to crack and his lungs are going to burst. He looks down, and Kame’s hair tickles his face. There’s hot, heavy breath against his neck.

The others look at each other, and hesitate a moment before joining in. Together, they’re a big hilarious group hug of grown men.

Jin laughs, and his heart swells. 

Kame whispers something to him, the words muffled against his skin: “I’ll always be here for you. If you ever have any doubts, just remind yourself that I believe in you.”

Jin presses a quick kiss to Kame’s forehead, and his heart constricts.

\--

The deep navy sky turns cobalt. Where the sun is rising, the sky is orange. The stars have faded. The mountains begin to separate themselves from the shadows and come back into view.

Akanishi realizes in this moment that Kamenashi has always been his biggest advocate.

“Kame,” he says, and there’s no answer.

It’s strange, he thinks, that while he’s always admitted to loving Kamenashi, while he’s always wanted to be _with_ Kamenashi, he’s never really thought about the actual reasons why the other didn’t feel the same way. 

“How were you holding me back?” He asks. Silence. He thinks he knows the answer now, anyway. Akanishi was willing to work around everything for a relationship with Kamenashi. At the same time, he hasn’t regretted a decision he’s made – not to go to America to study, not to leave KAT-TUN, and certainly not to be anyone but himself.

“So that’s how it is,” he murmurs, and steps down from his perch on the wall. He heads back down to the forest path. Kamenashi probably recognized it before he himself did – that he was a flight risk waiting to happen.

When Akanishi reaches the base of the Wall, he looks back up. The sun comes out blazing from behind the mountains to the east, and he shields his eyes as everything is bathed in light. The clouds are glorious shades of coral and gold and purple. He closes his eyes, and breathes. Inhale, count to five–.

“Stop that,” a familiar voice softly chastises, amused.

When he opens his eyes, Kamenashi stands before him. Akanishi’s eyes flicker toward his stomach.

“I’m fine,” Kamenashi says, blowing off his concern with a wave of his hand. “How was your night on Mutianyu?” He smiles. 

“I didn’t know, Kazuya,” Akanishi breathes, and he pulls Kamenashi into a hug. He squeezes him tight and feels the warm body in his arms stiffen.

Kamenashi pulls back, eyebrows furrowed. “It was the right decision, Jin,” he says, voice matter-of-fact. “You were always a caged bird waiting to be freed.”

“I had you.” Akanishi presses his lips into Kamenashi’s hair. He closes his eyes, breath shaky, “Maybe that would have been enough. You never let me try.”

“I didn’t want to be the one to clip your wings.”

When Akanishi opens his eyes, all he’s holding is air.


End file.
